


Robots and Electronic Brains

by explicitly_fandroid



Series: Tainted Robotics [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Androids Will Ruin You, Blood, Bodily And Mental Breakdown, Face Slapping, Hurt No Comfort, Klingon Painstiks, Knifeplay, M/M, No Pleasure, Rape, Torture, no happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/explicitly_fandroid/pseuds/explicitly_fandroid
Summary: Bruce Maddox, Associate Chair of Robotics, has a passion for vintage books that will bestow a night upon him he won’t ever be able to forget.Honouring those two lovable perverted TNG antagonists with the most approvable taste in androids.I do love them, I swear!This is not a nice story, please mind the tags and don’t read if it’s not your thing.





	Robots and Electronic Brains

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Servetolive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/gifts).



Bruce Maddox took a sip from his bourbon and groaned. He had a headache and killing it with alcohol was certainly not the right decision. But he was done for the day and really? he couldn’t care less. He rubbed the root of his nose with his fingers. Seriously, he hated these conferences. Well, not exactly the conferences. The talks were mostly okay, sometimes there was a gem amongst them, and then he would be there to make contacts, good for future research exchange. And in fact he himself actually liked to give talks. He found it satisfactory. Well, he better did, since it came with the job. As Associate Chair of Robotics he often had to give keynote speeches, thus also having the chance to promote the latest research conducted at Daystrom Institute.

But the people… He loathed them sitting in the first rows, asking all the same questions every year, and only to show off, never because they actually had an interesting point or a valid critique. And of course, because he was from Daystrom, people wanted to either quarrel with him or make him notice them. It was annoying. He rubbed his face and tried to ease his tensed shoulders.

“Are you the cyberneticist that lost to the android, Data?”

Maddox breathed out, leaned back and let his eyes slowly wander up the figure that had appeared at his table, neither moving his face nor saying anything.

“I need information about it.”

“Do you.” Maddox felt the headache gnawing behind his forehead. He sighed. Who had told this imp where to find him?

Next to his table stood a compact man, dressed in an embarrassingly flamboyant yellow suit and cap, overloaded with jewellery. The man pressed his fingertips together and smiled at him with big black eyes.

“If you need information on Data, go to a library and get it,” Maddox slurred, “they are usually full of it.” He took another sip from his glass and concentrated on the tabletop with ostentation.

To his displeasure the man shoved a chair back and sat down.

“I would be paying well,” he said, smiling. “I happen to be in the possession of a copy of _Robots and Electronic Brains_. Exactly,” he added, as Maddox couldn’t help but lean forward, suddenly alert, “How and Why, Earth 1963, only six copies are believed to still exist. I have one.”

Maddox pressed his lips together. He had been searching for this book since years, having it seen once in a robotics exhibition at the University of Betazed. This was a dream coming true, if he could get his hands on it. He wouldn’t have to give away classified data, but could provide this… man with a bit of this and that. After all the android was his research focus, he would be able to come up with enough sketchy information to make a deal here.

His passion got the better of him and the headache was completely forgotten. “Maybe we should go somewhere private,” he stated and drew his mouth into a thin grin.

“Exactly what I thought,” the man opposite him replied with an innocent smile and Maddox squinted and decided to be careful, that guy was a cheat.

“Kivas Fajo,” the small man introduced himself and stood. “I’ll meet you in your hotel room in half an hour,” and he left.

Maddox followed him with his eyes until the doors closed behind him, his face sporting faint amusement. Right, he thought and necked his bourbon. Time to collect some data.

* * *

When his door rang he had successfully filled an information chip with files on Data, things you wouldn’t be able to find in the official records, but still nothing that would give anything important away or compromise his research. An overview of the Commander’s systems, a bit of background on Dr Soong, the different materials the android was made from, that sort of stuff.

“Come,” he stated and Fajo entered, carrying a bag. He locked the door from the inside and pressed the sound-proof button, giving Maddox a mischievous wink, “There are things we perhaps want to keep to ourselves, right?” Maddox shrugged and nodded, picking up the information chip.

Fajo put his bag on the table and pulled out a package. He handed it over to Maddox, who in return gave him the chip. 

Maddox unfolded the paper and an earnest smile crept over his long face, surrounding his eyes with dozens of tiny wrinkles. Yes, this was it. His pulse slightly quickened, he burned for these vintage cybernetics books. He remembered the cover clearly. The strange drawings of spherical computers, their spider-like legs. The hopes of a bright future by people who were just at the threshold of understanding artificial intelligence. He caressed the cover and looked up, suddenly finding Fajo directly next to him, intruding into his personal space. His face fell back into emotionlessness, just what wanted that man now?

“You know,” Fajo stared at the book, “actually there is something else I’d like to gather information on. You know what this is?” And he held up a short stick of some sort and pressed it against Maddox’s arm.

And Maddox could only cough out a raw “Fuck,” as unfathomable pain flooded his body, soaking everything in red, the book fell from his hands, and he passed out.

* * *

The haze thinned. Sounds made it first to his ears and then to his brain. Sharp pain in his wrists and his shoulders. He was hanging, he realised. His feet touched the floor though, so he managed to come to a shaky stand and tried to relax his aching shoulders.

“The fuck. What the fuck are you doing,” he slurred. And opened his eyes.

The light was painful at first and pierced into his newly awakened headache. Then the blurriness cleared and shaped the room into distinguishable forms. He was facing the door of his hotel room. Which had been locked and made sound-proof for a reason, he realised. Fajo was sitting in front of him at the table, playing with a ring on his middle finger and observing his coming to. All the giddy foolishness was gone from the man’s face, instead it was cold with menacing attention. Maddox glowered at him and looked up. His wrists were in grey cuffs, suspended in midair. Obviously somehow held in place by an object of the same material, attached to the ceiling. He tried to yank the cuffs down, but to no avail. He was trapped. Maddox grunted and pulled himself up, thrashed his legs out and towards Fajo, but couldn’t reach him. The man didn’t even wince, a small grin growing on his lips. Maddox let himself down again, his breath loud and uneven. His thoughts raced through different reasons why someone would want to tie him up. The answers his brain provided were not reassuring. He should probably go about this as straightforward as possible.

“What is this about?” he sneered, “What do you think you’re doing?” He tried to make his voice sound deep and intimidating, not an easy task while standing cuffed to the ceiling.

Fajo pouted. “I told you before. I gather information. Do you know what this is?” He held up the stick again and Maddox gritted his teeth.

“It is a Klingon painstik. The handbag version, I like to call it. Very unique. Isn’t it adorable?” He stood from his chair and Maddox rasped, “Don’t you dare come near me.”

Fajo raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. “Or what?” He grinned and Maddox swallowed. 

“I got it from a Klingon trader. You know, I always wanted to test it. It must be a vicious little thing.” He contemplated the stick in his hand. “What you just had was a rather high setting. I turned it down a bit. I would find it tiring, having to wait for you to wake up every time I used it.” He began circling Maddox, who tried to keep an eye on him, ultimately failing as Fajo reached his back. Ice grew in his stomach and spread to his chest.

“You’re allowed to scream,” Fajo said and his body was thrown off his feet and into the cuffs, his guts wrenched out of place and he had the feeling that any second his eyeballs would pop out of their sockets. Everything was pain, piercing, threatening pain. He would have screamed, but the air was pressed out of his lungs and all that left his mouth was a deep and shattered grunt. He jerked and writhed under the torture, unable to get anything into focus, even less think coherently. Stop, it had to stop.

And then it ebbed away and he found himself hanging in the cuffs, panting and sweating.

“You arsehole,” he whizzed and behind his back, Fajo snickered.

He thrashed about as the next assault came, back arched, legs kicking and shaking uncontrollably. It was too much.

When the pain subsided he had problems getting to his feet.

“What do you want?” he panted and flinched as Fajo put his hand on his shoulder, letting it slide down his body and caressing his side as he moved to his front to face him. His dark eyes were filled with a sadistic curiosity, it made Maddox’s hairs stand.

“I want to hear you scream,” Fajo said, and this time, he did.

He writhed and tried to get away from the man, but Fajo stayed next to him, following his lurching movements and pressing the stick into his side. When his screams turned into a series of hyperventilating gasps, Fajo took a step back and watched him collapse into the cuffs.

Maddox groaned and stammered, his tongue a swollen piece of meat that didn’t belong to his body. It took a while until he could mouth actual words again. “Why are you doing this?” His voice was hoarse and he didn’t like the pleading undertone that had crept into the question. He tasted blood.

Fajo didn’t answer, instead he went over to the table and rummaged through his bag. He came back to Maddox with something in his hand, another stick-like object. He held it up in front of his face and Maddox’s head jerked back as it sprang open, revealing a thin white blade. At that moment he began to seriously fear for his life. Shit, why had he allowed this man entry? What had he been thinking? How could he get out of this? There was a high ringing in his right ear.

“Traditional Andorian ice cutter,” Fajo whispered, “beautiful, isn’t it?”

He held the knife to Maddox’s throat and Maddox swallowed. He felt his Adam’s apple dance under the blade.

“Careful,” Fajo said, “it is extremely sharp.”

Maddox sweat helplessly as Fajo took his time and let the blade wander over his skin, up to his left ear and across his cheek. It rasped over his beard shadow. Goosebumps were following the light pressure and he didn’t dare move.

“Why am I doing this,” Fajo said and Maddox flinched as he felt the cut, “you know, Commander, I’m pretty sure you can do more than what you gave me on that chip.” The knife caressed Maddox’s chin, leaving another sharp bite, and wandered down his throat again.

“I want to know where the android is stationed. Name of the ship, position, current mission.”

Maddox froze as Fajo picked up the rim of his neckline and let the blade cut into his dress uniform.

“Stop that,” he cursed, fighting the rising panic.

“You have a high rank, I’m sure you can access information about the android’s whereabouts?” The sound of cut fabric sizzled on his eardrums.

“You think I’ll give it to you?” Contrary to his instincts, Maddox mustered a thin smile, which was betrayed by the crack in his voice. The knife cut into his chest. He hissed.

“Yes. You will.” Fajo stated simply.

The next wave of pain got him completely unprepared and Maddox howled until his voice failed.

While he was dangling in the cuffs, trying to regain control over his body, Fajo cut away most of his uniform and underwear, leaving him virtually naked, except for his shoes and a heap of fabric around his ankles, which made him even more embarrassed. Maddox felt his pulse rise as the air hit his damp skin. He watched in horror as Fajo looked him over, taking his skinny body in from head to toe. He bit his teeth and growled unintelligible abuses, but Fajo only smirked and patted his cheek, which made Maddox stop immediately.

He had been riding on adrenaline for quite some time now and as it began to wear off, despair took its place. That man was sick. Nobody knew he was here and nobody could hear him. He drew a laboured breath as he felt the room shrinking in on him.

“Oh, I fear I ruined your uniform.” Fajo held up the painstik and spun it between his fingers, “Now, do you think you can access that information for me?”

Maddox chose not to answer. Such information was classified. He was absolutely not allowed to give it to civilians. He groaned and braced himself for the inevitable pain.

And it came. And overwhelmed him. He pulled at the cuffs and curled up in the air. He flung his head back and heard himself utter strange high pitched wheezing sounds he couldn’t stop making. He lost track of the time, the pain just went on and on until everything was white hot fire behind his eyes.

When he finally hung in the cuffs, trembling and covered with cold sweat, Fajo cocked his head and took a step back. He smiled, “I love hearing you scream.”

Maddox breathed heavily through his open mouth. Sour sweat ran into his eyes and he couldn’t see Fajo clearly. His heart raced and he felt sick. His feet could no longer hold him, his legs buckled under his weight.

It was then that Fajo took a device from the table and tapped at it. The cuffs were lowered and, unable to hold himself up, Maddox sank with them until he was on his knees, shakily hanging a few centimetres above his calves.

Fajo put the device back on the table and for a few seconds their eyes met. Fajo’s face was telling him nothing, there was no hint of either amusement or mercy. He was just staring at him, unreadable. Then he came over and Maddox couldn’t help but shrink away. He loathed himself for behaving like that and pressed his lips together.

Fajo reached out and brushed a wet strand out of his face. Maddox closed his eyes and turned his head away from the touch. His body was weary, the pain had driven all energy out of him. He was failing, it was the bitter truth. The fingers lingered on his forehead.

“Look at me,” Fajo whispered. Maddox’s breath rattled as he opened his lids, reluctantly lifting his head to find the other man’s eyes. Fajo put his free hand on his naked, sweaty chest and stroked through the blood that was trickling from the knife wound. He gathered some of it on his fingers and softly wiped it over Maddox’s lips.

“Stop it,” Maddox whispered, his voice slurred and raw.

And said it again, and again, until he yelled it, as Fajo pressed the stick to his chest and the pain raged through his tormented body.

“Stop it. Stop it… Stop it.”

The words splintered into ragged sobs.

He writhed and banged his head into Fajo’s legs. And as the pain finally died down and Fajo held him by the neck and pressed his forehead into his thigh, hoarse sobs rocked his body.

“Please…” Maddox breathed, his voice turned deep and soft, “please stop.”

Fajo tousled his hair, “Shh,” he whispered, and opened his trousers.

“No,” Maddox gasped, and tried to scramble away. “No, don’t.”

The words drowned in new waves of pain and Maddox heard his voice, screaming, promising all there was to know about that cursed android.

When he came back to the surface, panting, wailing, Fajo grabbed his chin with brutal force and crashed him into his groin and onto his cock, hard and wet and threatening to suffocate him. He gagged, a muffled sound, unable to leave his mouth. Fajo had grabbed his hair and pushed him down and his body jerked in the attempts to free himself from the intrusion. As he gagged again, Fajo yanked his head up and he drew in a panicky gulp of air. Dark eyes hovered above him and he tumbled into the cuffs as Fajo slapped him hard in the face. His head flew to the side and his breath came in wheezes, as again and again Fajo hit his cheeks. Four times, five, six, he choked on humiliation, seven, eight, he lost count, until that growing lump in his chest imploded, drowning his body and he felt the shame wash over him as he started to cry with dark chopped sobs that sounded almost like laughter. It was too much, too much, he couldn’t hold it in, his body rocked with the pain and the humiliation and the exhaustion and that holding-himself-together and Fajo held his head and caressed his cheek while he screamed into his hand.

When he managed to finally calm down, Fajo circled him, grabbed his hips and dragged him up.

“No, please,” his voice broke, Maddox hiccuped and the panic made his hearing shut down, “please, don’t.”

Fajo made a spitting sound and he felt something hit his anus. Maddox yipped hysterically, as tears started to blur his vision. And Fajo grabbed his hips, pushed his dick into his hole and his world exploded.

He couldn’t breathe.

His lips were numb and his whole body went limp.

He saw lightning and in an absurdly clear moment he appreciated the fact that he now knew that seeing stars was not only a metaphor.

The pain was excruciating. A sharp, mean ripping apart of his arse, his dignity, his self. His chest responded with a tortured, pressed gnawing sound that wound up into a long, thin whine, piercing his brain.

He didn’t know he could make such sounds. There was a fierce, green fire where his anus had been.

Fajo brutally banged him, making him reel in the cuffs until his joints felt like ripping.

At one point his screams were stifled by a piece of his uniform Fajo stuck into his mouth. Maddox bit hard into the fabric, thankful in an ugly and twisted way, soaked it with his spit, and begged incomprehensibly for Fajo to stop. Their grunts intertwined over his spine and he buried his wet face in his shoulder, smearing his skin with tears and blood.

With a low hiss Fajo finally thrust deep into his guts and Maddox felt him shudder through his orgasm, pumping his semen into him. He gagged on the fabric. The tears just didn’t stop.

Fajo pulled out and Maddox collapsed. A cold shiver rushed through his body, as his sphincter contracted spasmodically and choppy wheezes went into the cloth in his mouth.

Fajo pulled it out, leaving him to sob freely, and walked to the table, seemingly relaxed, adjusting his clothes. He released the cuffs and Maddox slumped to the floor, crying out at the sudden pain in his shoulders, as his arms fell to his sides. Fajo placed a small computer in front of his face and winked at him. He helped him type in his commands with numb fingers, stroked his hair as he mouthed his access codes, and retrieved the information he had asked for with a solemn nod.

Maddox remained on the ground, the awareness of his filthy body had him nauseated and sick. He curled up and followed the sensation of tears running alongside his nose. He observed Fajo, as the man packed his bag, whistling. He was whistling.

After a while Maddox tried to get into a sitting position, the pain in his anus made him gasp violently.

Fajo turned to him and Maddox tried to crawl away, only his limbs didn’t follow his commands.

Fajo went down on one knee and cupped his wet and swollen face, “I needed that, it was a pleasure,” he smiled, and Maddox could only wheeze and swallow his panic. Fajo stroked his hair once again and placed _Robots and Electronic Brains_ in his trembling hands.

“Here you go. You’ve earned it,” he said, stood, took his bag and left the room.

Maddox looked at the book, tears streaming down his face. There was a trace of blood on the cover.


End file.
